


medicine

by ceteiq



Series: "and a place to rest my head" [13]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abortion, POV Child, Parent-Child Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceteiq/pseuds/ceteiq
Summary: A ficlet based on my fic "and a place to rest my head," set at Szymon's inn.(In which Jaskier is very sad, but Rian reminds him that there are still things worth living for.)
Series: "and a place to rest my head" [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719994
Comments: 22
Kudos: 153





	medicine

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i must say that i am so sorry i haven't updated the main fic in like almost a month. i've been busy irl, and also a bit stymied by having too many ideas for both the main fic and side fics, and not really knowing where to start. but, i have finally finished a ficlet, and here it is! it's a szymon's inn one though... which of course means there is sadness.
> 
> notes: rian is three here and jaskier is eighteen. also, to be clear, the "bleeding" rian talks about is the result of jaskier drinking an abortifacient potion, but obviously rian doesn't know that. and the "medicine" is of course the sleeping potion that rian takes every night.
> 
>  **WARNINGS:** 1) jaskier is enduring a forced abortion during this fic and there are numerous references to blood. 2) jaskier is initially suicidal to the point of having a plan and contemplating carrying it out. however he does not attempt it and by the end of the fic he is in a much better place mentally. it's all told from rian's pov, and rian is three years old, so he doesn't understand everything, but that's the gist of what's going on. also, there is hunger and allusions to physical abuse/injuries.

Some days Rian wakes up in bed with Papa, because Papa has already taken him out from underneath it. Rian likes those days because he's warm and cozy when he wakes up, snuggled next to Papa.

But other days Papa is really tired, or hurt really bad, so he doesn't take Rian out. Those days, when Rian wakes up, he's still under the bed, all cold and squished.

This morning is a day where he's under the bed. He listens hard for Bad Men, but he doesn't hear any. That means it's safe, so he crawls out and stands up. "Papa!" he says. "Good morning, Papa."

Papa is lying in bed with the blanket pulled up to his neck. His eyes are open, but he doesn't say good morning back.

Rian frowns. "Papa?"

Papa still doesn't answer.

"Papa, I'm hungry," Rian says, pressing his belly.

Papa closes his eyes. "Honey, it's a bleeding day," he says. "I'm sorry." He sounds sad and tired.

"Oh," says Rian. 

Bleeding days happen after Papa's heat, and they're always bad days, because Papa just lies in bed and cries and bleeds out of his bum onto a towel all day long. Also Papa's not allowed downstairs while he's bleeding, so that means no food either.

"I'm sorry," Papa says again.

"It's okay," says Rian. He climbs up onto the bed and pats Papa's shoulder— really gently, because there's a big bruise there.

"No it's not," Papa says. "It's not okay. _Nothing_ here is fucking okay; it's just constant misery, and pain, and abuse, and— Gods, what's the fucking _point_?"

Rian makes a pointy triangle with his fingers. "Point," he repeats. "It's like this, Papa."

But Papa shakes his head. "I mean the point of living," he says.

"Living?" asks Rian.

"You know. Being alive. Not being dead," Papa says.

Rian frowns at that. He doesn't like dead. Once he found a rat in their room and _it_ was dead. That was yucky.

"I could do it, you know," says Papa. His voice is quiet. "It would be so easy. I could drink the whole bottle of your medicine in one go and just... fall asleep."

Rian sits up straight. He thinks it's a really good idea for Papa to drink his medicine, 'cause the medicine keeps Rian safe from Bad Men, and Rian wants Papa to be safe from Bad Men too. "I can share!" he says. Him and Papa always share food, so they can also share medicine.

Papa doesn't say anything. He closes his eyes and just lies really still. Rian thinks he might be hurting too much to move. Bleeding hurts sometimes and makes cramps, Papa says.

But Papa doesn't have to get up— Rian can get the medicine for him; he knows where it is. So he hops off the bed and goes to the corner of the room where the medicine bottle is sitting on the chair. He picks it up and brings it over to Papa.

"Papa," he says.

Papa opens his eyes.

"Papa look, I bringed my medicine," says Rian. He holds it up. "Now you can drink it and no more Bad Men will come, right?"

"Fuck," says Papa. " _Fuck_." He rolls over and looks at the ceiling.

Rian frowns. Papa says fuck when something is bad. But his medicine is good and magic, so he doesn't know why Papa said fuck about it.

"Papa?" he asks. He climbs back onto the bed. "You can drink it all up if you want, it's okay." He tries to give Papa the bottle, but Papa doesn't take it.

Instead, Papa starts to cry. "Gods, Rian, don't— don't tempt me," he says. "I can't— I fucking _can't_ ; I— you _need_ me. Fuck. Rian—" 

Papa is crying very hard now.

So Rian lifts up the blanket, gets underneath, and curls up next to Papa's side. Papa is naked and the towel under him is all covered with blood. Some of the blood even touches Rian's leg. It feels wet and yucky. But that's okay. Rian doesn't care, because he thinks that maybe cuddling will make Papa feel better.

Except it doesn't. Papa stays sad, and keeps on crying. He cries and cries and cries. Also he talks about Bad Men and Szymon, but Rian doesn't understand all the words he says because some of them are big, like "abortion."

So Rian just sucks on his thumb and holds the medicine bottle very tight to his chest. He hates when Papa cries so much. It's scary.

"Papa?" he whispers, after a really long time.

"What?" asks Papa.

"Are you sad because your bleeding hurts?" asks Rian.

Papa doesn't answer for a while. "No," he says then. "I'm sad because my— mymind hurts."

"Our mind is where we keep imagination," says Rian, frowning. That's what Papa told him once.

Papa nods and wipes at his eyes. He isn't really crying so much anymore. Rian is glad. "Yes," Papa says. "But our mind is also where we keep our thoughts. And right now my thoughts are—" He scrunches his face up. "They're not good."

"How come?"

"Because I'm tired of this."

"Of what?"

"Of living here. Of living, period," Papa says. "Gods, Rian, our lives are fucking deplorable."

"What's that mean?" whispers Rian.

"It means our lives are— they're bad."

"They're not bad."

Papa sighs. "Honey. Can you name even one good thing about your life? One single, solitary thing?" he asks.

"Food," says Rian, touching his empty tummy. "Like meat stew. And carrots and potatoes and bread. Those are always good. Oh, and when Szymon lets us have breakfast _and_ dinner! That's _really_ good!" He waits for Papa to agree, but Papa just looks sad, like maybe he _doesn't_ think food is good.

So Rian frowns and tries again. "And maybe... when we cuddle it's good?" he says. "And when you kiss me and hug me? Like really big giant hugs, or like when you give me a million kisses in a row really fast and I always laugh? Isn't that stuff good?"

Papa stares at Rian for a second. Then he squeezes his eyes shut tight and— oh no. He makes sort of a sniffly crying noise, which means Rian said something wrong and made Papa sad. 

"Papa?" he asks.

"I'm okay," says Papa. "I'm okay, honey. I'm not crying. I just—" He opens his eyes and does a teeny smile. "You're right. It makes me happy too, when we hug and cuddle." He lifts his arm, and Rian snuggles even closer to him, so his head is in Papa's armpit and his hand is on Papa's ribs. Papa's ribs stick out the same way Rian's do, all bumpy.

Him and Papa lie there in bed being quiet for a lot of minutes. It's nice.

Then Rian says, "Papa?"

"Yeah?"

"Are stories good?" asks Rian. "'Cause I think it's very good when you tell me stories, like about me being a prince. And about nymphs. And unicorns. And _dragons_!"

Papa smiles again, a tiny bit bigger. "You're right," he says. "Stories are how we escape from here, huh? At least for a little while."

Rian doesn't know what escape means, but he's happy Papa is smiling, so he nods. "And— and when you sing to me, that's good too," he says. "You make the bestest songs. And your voice is really pretty."

Papa looks away.

"Papa?" asks Rian, frowning. "Isn't singing good?"

"Yes, singing is— it's certainly good," says Papa. His voice is kind of scratchy sounding. "I'd forgotten about that."

"How'd you forget about _singing_?" asks Rian. Papa sings all the time, every day.

"I don't know," Papa says. "I suppose that when, uh. When my mind hurts so much, it's hard to remember anything other than the pain, you know?"

"Oh." Rian frowns. "Like how right now I'm really hungry so I just keep thinking of it and thinking of it?"

Papa sighs. "Like that, yeah," he says.

"But no breakfast today because you're bleeding, huh?" whispers Rian.

"I'm sorry, honey." Papa squeezes Rian's arm. "Maybe— there's a chance I'll stop bleeding by tonight, and I might be able to do some chores and convince Szymon to let us have dinner," Papa says. "No promises. But we can hope, okay?"

Rian really wants breakfast, but dinner is yummy too. "Okay," he says. He looks up at Papa's face, which is wet from crying and has lots of purple bruises on it from the Bad Men. And that makes Rian remember about the medicine! "Papa!" he says.

"Yeah?"

" _Now_ do you want my medicine?" Rian asks. "So no more Bad Men will bruise you up and hurt you?" And he takes the medicine bottle out from under the blanket and holds it near Papa's hand.

But Papa pushes it away. "No," he says. "No, Rian."

Rian frowns. "How come no?"

"Because, uh." Papa touches Rian's hair. "See, if I drank all your medicine, I wouldn't be able to do those— those good things anymore. The good things you reminded me of just now."

"Like singing?"

"Yep."

"And cuddling?" 

"Mm-hmm."

"Oh," says Rian. "But _I_ take my medicine and _I_ still cuddle."

"I know," Papa says. "But I was gonna drink the whole bottle, and... that would have been different."

"Why?" asks Rian.

Papa kisses Rian's forehead. "I was sad. But now I'm— well, not exactly _happy_ , but— I just love you, honey. I love you so much."

"I know," says Rian. "I love you too."

"And you make everything worthwhile," Papa says. "And I'm not gonna do anything stupid just because life feels a bit miserable sometimes, alright? Not as long as I have you, I promise."

Rian nods, even though he doesn't know what all those words meant. "So no medicine?" he asks.

"No medicine," says Papa.

Rian reaches down by the side of the bed and puts the medicine bottle on the floor. 

Then he cuddles up to Papa again. Papa smiles at him, and wraps Rian up in his arms, which are big and warm and safe.

And Rian thinks that of all the good things in the world, Papa is the _most_ good.

Yeah. Papa is the very very best.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments mean a lot to me, especially with these prequel ficlets, which i feel are kind of unpopular?
> 
> also, i have posted a cute little 3D render of jaskier, geralt, rian, and baby elodie. you can see it [**here**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502981/chapters/63120988)!
> 
> p.s. subscribe to this [**series**](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719994) so you don't miss more ficlets or art when i post! :)


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